


Naughty Stilinski wants an A

by wolfflock (Hun__Sher)



Series: TWBingo2020 [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Confident Stiles Stilinski, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Socially Awkward Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Student Stiles Stilinski, Teacher Derek Hale, and he wants a good grade in Derek's class, he will show his skills to Mr Hale, innuendos galore, stiles is 19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25862674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hun__Sher/pseuds/wolfflock
Summary: This is my first fill for the 2020 Teen Wolf Bingo, prompted by Matt, who chose the following prompts:Teacher/Professor AU + Naughty student wants an AI couldn't workComing untouchedinto this one but that might come later *eyebrow wiggle*
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: TWBingo2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970941
Comments: 7
Kudos: 140
Collections: Teen Wolf Bingo





	Naughty Stilinski wants an A

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Ice_Mage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Ice_Mage/gifts).



> I know nothing about the American education system, so sorry if some of the things here seem unrealistic. I think most of it would be alright where I'm from (apart from the whole, you know, teacher/student thing lol)

He knew Stilinski wasn’t a bad student. Make no mistake, he was _bad_ , just not in the educational sense. You know… Derek had seen students less motivated or intelligent pass his class with acceptable grades, so he just didn’t get why Stilinski was so close to hitting that threshold where his dreams of getting into a respectable and highly regarded university with a full scholarship could slip through his fingers.

How Derek Hale knew this, you’re asking? It’s not like he paid particular attention to the senior boy, but the teacher’s lounge, close to the end of the school year, was a hot spot for gossip. Most of their work was done, they did what they could for the students throughout the school year, now it was just the waiting to see who got accepted to what school, who would leave Beacon Hills or who would stay back another year.

This is how Derek heard about Stilinski and his dreams to pursue Data Science. Apparently, the boy was good with a computer, digging up stuff, writing code, algorithms and the like. Derek had seen him plenty of times out by the benches, with his headphones on and his fingers sweeping over the keyboard of his laptop in an impressive pace.

Obviously, Derek’s class was as far as it could get from anything technology related, so it wasn’t really that surprising to him that Stilinski would struggle with it. He didn’t exactly _struggle_ with Literature, but he definitely didn’t spend enough time with his homework and reading tasks.

This had showed in his last – failed – test, which the boy was now staring at, his fingers turning white as he was flexing his fingers flat against his desk, fighting hard not to shred the offending piece of paper into tiny shreds. With this result, the tip of the scale heavily leaned towards an overall D for Stilinski this year, meaning he was dangerously close to missing out on the scholarship he wanted.

He seemed to rein himself in, Derek noticed, as he walked past Stilinski’s desk to hand out the rest of the papers. Derek went back to his desk and continued his class with no interruptions, thankfully. When the bell rang to announce the end of the class – and with that, the school day for most of the students, this having been their last class of the day – most students ran out of the building in minutes. As Derek was packing his bag and straightening his desk, he noticed that he wasn’t alone in the room.

Stilinski was casually leaning against one of the desks in the front row, his backpack behind him on the desk, his arms crossed over his chest. Compared to people in his grade, Stilinski was older, born in June which made him almost 19, and it showed in his physique. He had grown quite tall in the last couple of years but having joined Finstock’s track team made him swell out around the shoulders and legs.

Again, Derek only had secondhand information about this, having heard the new – and very young, straight out of college – substitute teacher, Malia Tate, mention it. She was only 4 years older than Stilinski, who grew comfortable in his own skin over the summer and used this newfound confidence around Ms. Tate. At the beginning of her term she had needed help moving boxes of textbooks and Stilinski had volunteer. Ms. Tate guided him – with boxes in his arms – down the hall and her hand casually rested over his shoulder blades as they walked past Derek. He ran into them again when it seemed they finished moving the boxes; he saw Stilinski wink at her, to which Ms Tate turned an impressive shade of red, head bowed to look at him from behind a waterfall of her brown hair. This is how he ended up listening in to her talk to Miss Blake about Stilinski, his future aspirations and his sports activities.

Derek wouldn’t say he hadn’t noticed, but then again, he tended to notice these things. He noticed that Stilinski’s friend, McCall got a new tattoo, that Lydia Martin started dressing more casually and less like she was expected on the runway right after her classes, or that Miss Blake was stealing glances at him in recess, which he tried to ignore. He noticed these things, but they didn’t mean anything to him.

It doesn’t mean, though, that this piece of information about Stilinski’s appearance didn’t cross his mind when he looked at the boy leaning against the desk casually, seemingly waiting for something.

“Yes, Mr. Stilinski?” Derek asked as he straightened to look at the boy.

The boy pushed off of the desk with the languid motion of a cat circling a wounded animal and he swayed, _swayed_ , over to Derek’s desk, all the while keeping eye contact with him.

Derek instinctually pushed his glasses higher up on his nose and licked his lips, as those eyes boring into his made him on edge.

“This, Mr. Hale,” Stilinski said as he slammed his test down on Derek’s desk, just a bit more forcefully than necessary. “See, I don’t understand where I lost all those points that would warrant a D.” His fingers were drawing a mesmerizing pattern across the paper as he followed Derek’s red ink marks with his fingertips. Derek might have stared at them a bit longer than necessary. “Can you explain it to me? Show me where I was _wrong_ ,” they boy asked, although Derek was sure it wasn’t a question but a command. The way he said that sentence, too, made warning bells ring out in Derek’s brain but then Stilinski was looking up at him again with a smile on his lips that was followed by the tip of his tongue subtly running over his teeth, barely noticeable, but Derek’s eyes were drawn to that movement anyway.

He swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Mr. Stilinski. Grab a chair and I’ll show you,” he gestured towards the one by the door.

Stilinski then stepped back and slowly pulled his plaid shirt off, revealing broad shoulders – Ms. Tate was right, after all – and toned arms. He casually dropped his shirt on his bag and walked towards Derek, without so much as looking at the chair Derek pointed out. Instead, he stood next to Derek’s chair, one hand on the back of it, while the other one he placed on Derek’s desk. He was leaning over Derek, _looming_ over him, caging Derek in.

“I hope this is okay,” he whispered, and he was even closer, his breath tickling Derek’s neck. Derek shuddered, wondering what the hell got into him. Had it been anyone else, Derek would have acted a lot more assertive, but there was something in Stilinski’s quiet magnetism that had Derek sit in his seat frozen.

“Y-yes, of course,” he mumbled and cleared his throat. “Let’s go through your test, shall we,” he said, and began to explain what Stilinski got right, where he made a mistake, and why he got those answers wrong.

While he was focusing on his explanation, he tried to ignore how close his arm was to Stilinski’s hand that lay flat on the desk, or how the boy simply lifted it, licked his thumb to then reach over Derek’s arm to flip the page. Derek saw that pink tongue run across his thumb from his periphery and he tried his damn best to just _fucking stay still_.

There was one question where Stilinski’s answer was partially correct, which Derek did tell him. His laugh that ghosted over Derek’s neck shocked an awkward chuckle out of Derek.

“But Mr. Hale, that was really mean of you. Phrasing the question like that, luring unsuspecting students into your trap,” Stilinski smiled, and _boy_ , was that a wicked smile. Almost a smirk.

Derek’s brain was trying hard to process whether he was seeing things here, or whether Stilinski was deliberately saying things that could be understood as innuendos. Well, Derek had never been good at this flirting thing. His friends said he was lucky he looked good because it saved him from having to chat up people which he would never be able to do. This way he just had to sit there, and someone would walk up to him, flirt with him and they would end up in bed.

Not that Derek needed to think about ending up in bed with someone, not when he felt like he couldn’t read between lines fast enough for his liking.

But then Stilinski straightened, turned around and leaned against Derek’s desk, ankles crossed, his thighs just mere inches from Derek’s arm still on the desk. The boy put his hands on the desk on either side of his hips which caught Derek’s attention, and he followed the movement as Stilinski readjusted his belt buckle. Derek tried hard but couldn’t _not_ rake his eyes over Stilinski’s bulge. _Fuck_ , what was wrong with him?

Stilinski had the audacity to gently clear his throat to which Derek’s eyes snapped up to his eyes so fast he almost got whiplash.

“What should we do, Mr. Hale?” He looked at Derek, and the images that flashed in front of Derek’s eyes were _so_ not school appropriate that he felt himself blush.

“How can I show you that I’m _good_?” The boy continued, and Derek gave up on trying to perceive whatever was coming out of Stilinski’s mouth as _decent_. “You could give me some extra task,” he sounded thoughtful for a second, “but not written, please. I don’t like those. I prefer _oral_ ,” he said casually, and Derek almost choked on _air_.

 _Fuck_ , this was not happening. Why was he still sitting there, listening to this?

 _Because you want this,_ a really unhelpful voice, very much like Derek’s own, chimed in.

“I…” Derek said and coughed, “I think that can be arranged. Follow me to the teacher’s lounge, Mr. Stilinski,” he croaked as he fought hard to keep his voice even.

When he stood to leave the desk, he desperately grabbed Stilinski’s paper off his desk and placed in front of his crotch, trying to hide that he wasn’t unaffected by Stilinski’s blatant come-on.

Stilinski gathered his things and left the room, Derek following, after grabbing his bag and throwing his suit jacket on. When he closed the door, he tried to retrieve his keys, but he couldn’t find them. He didn’t have time to tap down all his pockets, though, when he felt a chest press against his back.

“Let me help you, Mr. Hale,” Stilinski purred in his ear as he reached around to run his hot palm across Derek’s front pocket. His big hand and long fingers were splayed all over Derek’s thigh and Derek held his breath, praying they would leave because he was dangerously close to moaning, out in the open hall of the school.

But no one was listening to Derek’s prayers because Stilinski moved his hand to grab Derek’s crotch, as if to see if he was holding the keys in the palm of his hands. Derek murmured a quiet ‘ _oh fuck_ ’ when those wicked fingers found what they were looking for, tracing the outline of Derek’s now hard cock through his trousers.

As if this wasn’t torture enough, Stilinski slid his other hand to the back pocket of Derek’s pants, smoothing his palm over his ass and squeezing here and there. Derek couldn’t do anything but hold himself still with his palms against the door, his head hanging in shame as he was groped by his _fucking student._

“Seems like they’re not in your pant pockets,” Stilinski whispered. “Maybe they’re in your jacket,” he continued as he shifted so he could run his hands up from Derek’s hips to his chest. To get a better angle, he moved just a bit closer, and _fuck_ , that was Stilinski’s erection pressing against Derek’s ass, a warm promise of what was really happening here. They were so close together that when Stilinski ran his _nails_ across Derek’s nipples through his shirt, Derek could feel the answering twitch of Stilinski’s cock to his own loud moan.

Derek was rapidly falling apart, composure not only lost but _shattered_ and all instincts to fly or fight were offline; the only thing that he could do was to stand there frozen to the spot and listen to Stilinski’s harsh breathing as he finally grabbed his keys from Derek’s jacket. With shaking hands, Derek locked the door and without a glance at the boy, he walked to the teachers’ lounge. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for: to find someone in there and be saved by the lack of privacy; or that it would be empty, and Stilinski could make good on his promise. He was so far gone that he didn’t even register how painfully tight his pants became or how he had to walk to be able to maneuver around his erection.

Just as they were reaching the lounge door, it opened, and Miss Blake came out. Derek immediately placed his bag in front of him, awkwardly smiling at her and wishing for a quick _hi_ as she left.

“Have a nice evening, Derek,” she chirped. “Stiles,” she smiled at the boy as she – mercifully – walked towards the exit without another word or looking back.

Stilinski nodded at her, but as soon as her back was to them, he was in Derek’s personal space, herding him inside and locking the door from the inside.

Derek swallowed hard, his hands gripping his stupid bag and Stilinski’s test still. Leaning against the door, Stilinski looked at him with pure _hunger_ in his eyes and Derek felt like a cornered animal. There was nowhere to run, and as Stilinski started prowling closer, a knowing smirk on his lips, Derek could do nothing but back away, holding tight to his bag, trying to hide his erection that twitched at the sight in front of him.

There was not much wiggle room, though, as his back hit a bookshelf after a few steps. From the shock of the contact, the bag slipped from his fingers, and with that, his last line of defense disappeared. Stilinski was right there in front of him, face inches from his. He leaned in to whisper in Derek’s ears, the filth dripping from his lips,

“I’ll show you how good I am.”

And with that he grabbed Derek’s hair, yanked his head to the side and kissed, licked and nipped at Derek’s neck. Derek was whimpering as he tried to hold onto the bookshelf, accidentally pulling out a few books that hit the floor with muffled thuds. Without missing a beat, Stilinski loosened Derek’s tie, popped the button of his collar open and continued his torture with his tongue.

Derek could feel precum making his stomach wet where his hard cock was trapped by his boxer briefs. His face turned crimson as he tried to hold his moans back. He was getting really warm, but he didn’t dare move to remove his jacket, worried that Stilinski would stop if he did. The boy was too busy popping buttons, though, tracing Derek’s body with his tongue from his clavicle to his nipples, down to his belly button. When he reached Derek’s pants, he unbuckled his belt, reached in and lightly traced the outline of Derek’s cock.

“F-fuck,” was all that Derek could utter, as the boy stood up to resume his attack on Derek’s neck while he kept stroking Derek’s aching dick. He stepped closer and situated his thigh right between Derek’s legs which gave him room to unabashedly hump Derek.

Derek tried really hard to hold back but his hands moved on their own accord as they found Stilinski’s hard biceps and grabbed on. The boy let out a wet moan against Derek’s neck and he nipped harder, leaving a light indent in the skin. Derek mewled, getting lost in the hard press of Stilinski’s erection against his hip, his warm hand on his weeping cock and his smart mouth on his neck.

“Hhnnggg-- I’m c-close,” he stuttered as he moved his hips to fuck Stilinski’s clever hand.

With a great shattering groan the boy pulled back and Derek’s blood froze for a second when he thought Stilinski would just leave him like that, cock out, shirt almost entirely open but one tiny button, tie still on and loose around his neck. But he shouldn’t have worried because after flashing a shit eating grin at him, the boy knelt down and without any preamble took Derek’s dick in his mouth. And _moaned_ , like he’d been looking forward to this. Derek damn right shouted as the tight suction pulled him straight back to the edge, but after two quick bobs of his head, Stilinski suddenly just pulled off.

“Goddammit,” cursed Derek, as he grabbed the shelves hard, trying to hold his desperate choked out moan back.

“Sorry, Mr. Hale. I just want to show you that I _do_ work hard,” the brat said, smirking up at Derek, and all Derek could do was let his head fall back against the books with a loud thump. A needy whine did escape his lips, though, and that prompted Stilinski to dive back in and suck Derek’s cock down until the tip of him bumped the back of the boy’s throat.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Derek cried and pulled at his own hair to stop tangling his fingers in Stilinski’s wild hair. He set a punishing pace, alternating bobbing up and down, sucking on every upstroke, and just keeping him in his mouth as deep as he could and using nothing but his tongue to massage his length while sucking on it like it was some sort of _fucking_ straw.

“Gonna cum, gonna _cum_ ,” he chanted like a prayer, but Stilinski was suddenly off of him again, tearing at his own belt and zipper to free his red cock. He grabbed Derek’s cock in one hand, his own in his other palm and stroked them in unison, watching mesmerized as Derek fucked his hand. That sight and a few more hard tugs and twists pushed Derek over the edge as his orgasms was ripped out of him. He bit his fist to muffle his loud groan and shuddered as Stilinski worked him until he was empty and sensitive.

Derek looked at the boy’s hard and leaking cock, then up to his desperate eyes and waited, not sure if he was allowed to touch. Stilinski took that as an invitation, though, switched his hand and continued stroking himself again, with the extra lubrication of Derek’s cum making his movements easier. With his other hand, he grabbed Derek’s hair again and went back to mouthing at Derek's neck, moaning loudly as he got closer and closer to his climax.

Derek’s hands twitched by his sides as he wanted to reach out to hold the boy, but he didn’t want to startle him out of his daze so he just grabbed the fucking shelf and let Stilinski lick and scrape his teeth over his neck.

The boy’s rhythm faltered and then his erratic movements suddenly stilled when he groaned loudly – a noise that Derek’s spent cock twitched at in interest – and came, shooting cum on the bookshelf between Derek’s legs. He let go of his cock, and then placed his hands by Derek’s head against the shelf, caging him in and looking him straight in the eyes. He leaned in, bit Derek’s lips, licked into his mouth as he tried to get his heartbeat back to normal. Derek couldn’t do anything but kiss back, tentatively stroking his hand over Stilinski’s arm.

When both of them could breathe normally again, Stilinski tucked Derek’s cock in his pants, with a fond parting stroke against the soft skin. Then he buttoned Derek’s shirt, fixed his tie and straightened his own clothes.

He stepped back and with a cocky grin – that belied the fact that he had a cock in his mouth mere minutes ago – said,

“I think that deserves at least an A, if not an A+.”

He grabbed his bag and shirt and was walking to the door. Before unlocking it, he looked back at Derek and casually stated,

“I will be back to pick you up for dinner after graduation.” He _winked_ and left, leaving Derek plastered against the bookshelf – that had cum on it which he needed to clean now – and contemplating what the _hell_ had just happened.

 _Graduation_. Three more weeks and Stilinski wouldn't be a student anymore. And would be taking Derek out for dinner.

_What just happened?_


End file.
